Reprinted from theLivings
Picture | “Forgotten Battle” stills
Mother should feel double strange. There are countless Russians, Ukrainians and other Soviet citizens who have been forcibly repatriated to the Valca camp. Anyway, they also speak Russian, but there is no such person here.
In a summer night in 2013, I accidentally entered her name on the Internet of Russia, and the search engine quickly came out of a result. I opened the link and read: Ivashenko Yefgenia Yakovle, born in 1920 in Marwol.
I have never considered to understand the city and the place of my mother’s birth. Mary Upol has been known as Ridanov for more than 40 years. It was not recovered until the Soviet Union disintegrated.
A man named Constantine told me through an email: In the 19th century, a Ukrainian landlord lived in Maliwol, a nobleman from Chel Nigiffe, named Ipfan Yakovle Vikh Ivashenko. He is your great -grandfather. Mary Upol was still a small commercial city by the Assyrian seaside at the time, with less than 5,000 residents. He bought a house on the streets of Mitrobaris Camara for himself and his family, and became the principal of the secret officer, the owner of the ship, and the Port Customs Bureau. Gradually, he purchased a lot of real estate in the city, opened the shops, and gained a high prestige … This also explains why not only your mother’s name is, but the entire family introduction of Chelbino’s wife is left. In our file.
According to the picture, I knew my grandfather Yakov, who was punished for two decades because of the revolutionary belief. It was not until 1915 that the Germans entered Warsaw before being allowed to return to Mali Ubol and restored my freedom. Yakov and his family live in the “upper cities”, where the Great Revolution is a “reserved place” for the middle class and the upper levels. But this time, it was the last time to calm down, horror and raging, and long -term fear. Many political groups in Marilopol are robbing power. The Tsar flag represents the White Guards, the red flag represents the Bolsheviist, the yellow and blue flag represents the nationalist Simon Peter Rich, and the black represents an anarchist Neis Thor Macho. During the five -year civil war, Mali Upol’s regime changed seventeen times.
Later, the grandfather’s family experienced the Great Washing of Ukraine and Stalin. My aunt escaped the cleaning and returned to school. When she went to Crimean for vacation in 1941 and asked her grandmother to help her take care of her children, Marwol fell into the hands of the Germans.
At this time, my mother was still there.
On October 8, 1941, my mother was 21 years old. Mary Upol was occupied by the German army to kill Mrs. Slaw and provides the Barbarosa in the survival space to the Aryan people. There were 2540,000 residents when Mali Ubol was occupied, and only 85,000 people left two years later.
I don’t know what my father left Russia to Ukraine. I don’t know when my parents met. But I believe that these occurred in the war, which caused this marriage. Perhaps the hatred of Stalin also played a role in it. My cousin Igor thought that the biggest thing in common in his parents was this hatred. The Russians from the Volga River are twenty years old and have the ability she does not have. He can fight, can eliminate all difficulties and live. A handsome man, a man with a man, may immediately attract her. For him, she was an unexpected lucky harvest -a young girl, with the halo of the elite class before the revolution, was absolutely impossible for his son to be a small department store. And her, young and beautiful, pure, and without the world, it is easy to fall into his hands, which is a gift given to him by the war. She was attracted by his strengths and fascinated by fierce and overbearing pursuit. She realized a strong first love because she was more presence because of the dying war.
At that time, a large number of Ukrainians began to be sent to Germany under the incitement of the occupants. The large colored poster was painted with a happy Ukrainian sitting on the side of the advanced flow line in Germany. Ukrainian household workers wearing jewelry were preparing to bake Sunday pastries in Germany. Ukrainian maids are particularly popular. In 1942, Hitler ordered 500,000 Ukrainian women to go to Germany to engage in housekeeping services to reduce the burden on German women.
At first, these incitement of publicity was effective. Later, the truth gradually exposed the water: the work and living conditions of the Third Empire and the paradise were not stained at all.
However, war requires continuous product output, and Germany’s victory rely on national imported slave workers, especially the Soviet Union, to accurately speaking, from Ukraine. Most of the Oriental workers are Ukraine. They are regarded as the lowest -equal lady. In the Nazi racial race system, only the cindies, Roms and Jews are lower than them. They were arrested on the street, and they were arrested in cinema, cafes, light rail stations, and post offices. Police who carried out large -scale arrests drove them from home, basement, and hidden in the train station, and put them in the car that transported livestock to Germany. Countless people disappeared without a trace, and they didn’t bring anything except their clothes. According to the regulations promulgated in the spring of 1942, all young people between the eighteen and 20s of Ukraine must be served in the empire for two years.
I don’t know what my father did during the German occupation of Maliwol. Perhaps he has more reasons than his mother to avoid the Soviet Union who come to the Soviet Union, but if the mother’s sin is only born in the people of the people, big capitalists and counter -revolutionary families, now she has become an employee of the German Labor Bureau and becomes German workers. A small gear on the transporting machine was just guilty. She was a positive anti -Soviet criminal, betrayed the motherland and colluded with the enemy country. It was the lightest punishment she was facing. If she falls into the hands of the Soviets who come again, she may be shot on the spot.
Before they fled on the road, they got married. On the back of the copy of the marriage certificate, they were married six weeks before the German occupant retreat. It seemed that the fact that the Soviet army would regain the city will be rejected. After that, they embarked on a long journey as a husband and wife, so that they would not be separated on the way.
One day in August 1943, my mother passed through the arches of wind and frost through the mansion. What did the city look like at that time? The entire Mali Upol was burning and bombed. The last picture left by my mother to my mother was a huge destruction. The fact that Germany will be defeated has long been clear, but German soldiers are still destroying everything left by Mali Ubol until the last moment. They bombed the buildings after angrily and ignited the doors and windows that had not damaged houses with flame jets. They destroyed schools, kindergartens, libraries, barriers, and reservoirs to turn as much land as scorched soil.
Documents of US agencies show that the first stop of my parents’ flee is Odessa. They stayed in Odessa on the Black Sea for eight months, and at least the documents of the US institutions were recorded. The mother’s career was empty, and the father’s column filled out the book reviewer.
On April 10, 1944, Odessa was recaptured by the Red Army -my parents left Ukraine at the last moment. Whether they left voluntarily or were passed from Odeza, I couldn’t know. Maybe they can only choose one in the plague and cholera, just like to choose one in Germany’s mandatory labor and stay in Ukraine. They may have a hint of hope that they have always been expected to be so expected to escape through Germany. The United States is likely to be their ultimate destination from the beginning. Germany is just unavoidable transit stations, and forced labor is the price they must pay for the United States. Or, none of the above -mentioned situations were in line with the situation. They really just wanted to go to Odessa, but they were caught locally and then forcibly transported away, just like many others?
According to the route, the actual cargo that evacuated from Odessa to Romania is generally a strategic raw material for the German military industry. The mandatory workers are carried together. Military ships attacked. Sometimes, the Soviet bomber pilots did not see the ship carrying people, and sometimes, in order to sink a German ship, sacrificing compatriots at will. For them, these people are just traitors and enemies. Since they climb on the enemy’s boat, their lives are worthless. Only once such an attack was killed in the torrent of the Black Sea.
His father’s labor certificate showed that he arrived in Germany on May 14, 1944, but the labor certificate was issued on August 8 of the same year. I could only fill in the three -month gap of the middle in the middle.
The famous Leipzig Railway Station was destroyed, leaving only one hall, and 46 tons of U.S. explosives were cast within a day. What did my mother see in the city? Maybe only the ruins of the Nazi flag. There are also camps. There are camps everywhere. She should have been clear for a long time that they were not entering heaven but falling into hell, and fell into Grages she thought she would always escape.
Some mandatory workers are lucky. They are not treated in small enterprises, private families and farms, and some people even integrate into their families. But my mother was not assigned to such a job, but for her, such a job was not lucky. Because she is not competent for any daily labor. In addition, sexual exploitation is also very common, and young Slaves are particularly vulnerable to violations, because the space they live is invisible at all.
Mother avoided the farm. But despite this, she was unlucky and twice unlucky. She and my father not only came to the place where the allies were bombed all day, but also were also assigned to military enterprises that were awesome. Company, referred to as ATG. The company is located at No. 101, Shunaule Street, Leipzig, and is a combat crew assembly factory.
My parents were separated, my father entered the male worker camp, and his mother entered the female worker camp. Since then, they no longer have their names and have become a string of numbers on the labor certificate. They must wear the OST logo of blue -bottomed white characters on the right side of the clothes- “Oriental Labor” (
The abbreviation is better than the six -pointed star worn by the Jews. Labor in other countries is not allowed to talk to them, and offenders are punished.
ATG’s workers were divided into 20 camps, and there were 600 such camps in the Leipzig region. ATG is a giant enterprise, a small city composed of factory buildings, underground secret production points, residential sheds, business sheds, back kitchen houses, laundry sheds, toilet shacks, and cafeteria sheds. Women forced laborers to prohibit entering male labor camps, and male workers are the same.
Some work teams allow free operations, while others are guarding, guards and scolding and driving them away. On the street, women’s wooden shoes rang. After the shoes brought from home, they only have wooden shoes to wear, and there is no choice. They must buy such ship -shaped hard wooden shoes at high prices in the company. Although their feet will deform, they will be scratched every step in pain. Even more unlucky, inflammation and ulcers on your feet. If anyone can’t get to the labor position, get sick, the danger will soon come, and the coming will be eliminated, and then wait to die. Sometimes they sing softly while walking. They were used to singing at home, almost always singing, in the fields, home or on the road. My mother also likes to sing and use her beautiful and clear female treble. Later, I often hear her singing.
In the workshop hall, she waited for her to work twelve hours a day. In my memory, she and her father often quarreled, and her father asked her to work. Like most of other women who worked in the “big house”, she made money to make up for her family. She cried every time because she felt that she couldn’t do it. The labor camp may permanently destroy her health and nerves, and hearing the word “factory” alone will panic. Nevertheless, once she tried to produce a factory workmanship to produce rolling shutters, she was exhausted a week later.
At the same time, because of hunger, and because of the cold hustle and bustle night, she could not rest well in a shed with a crowded and parasitic spar. She became very weak. Moreover, she did not do ordinary jobs, but assembled fighters, which will be used to kill her compatriots.
An others deliberately made mistakes when they worked in danger to cause damage to Germany’s military industry. My timid and nervous mother must not be among them. She will do my best to act in accordance with the rules and not notice. This attitude may have become her second day as early as she was still in Mali Ubol: not noticeable is a survival strategy.
Slavic workers lived the worst shacks, with the lowest paid, and the food was even more terrible. Their most important food is a so -called Russian bread. It is made of coarse -grinding rye, beet, straw powder and leaves, which can easily cause gastroenteritis. The earlier promised Ukrainian dumplings and beef stewed beef did not at all. At noon and at night, there were only one liter of turbid soup, which could be fishing some cabbage leaves, peas or beet gangs. Spinach soup is the taste, there are bugs in the soup swimming. There are 100 grams of artificial butter and eight grams of sausages in the recipe, or the meat once a week, most of which are raw horse meat with low -grade meat shops. Labor must be lined up with their aluminum basins -most of these pots are feeded for cats and dogs. Whoever comes late is not food.
Although the rations are not enough to fill their stomachs, in order to squeeze more labor results from the workers, the so -called “performance rations” have been added. That is, who does more live and gets more food. This will not increase the cost of Flik at all, because it is just a way to distribute. High -performance workers are deducted from the rations of low -performance workers. This will inevitably make the laborers with low performance, lower labor efficiency, and thus falling into a dangerous vicious circle.
And women workers earn less than male workers. Deducting taxes and fees, social security funds, oriental workers donation, accommodation and food fees, if I calculate it right, the mother’s remaining money is less than six empire Mark every week. At that time, a round bread was selling about ten empire Mark, and in the black market, the money was not valuable, because there was no distribution certificate, and the store could almost buy anything.
After Mali Ubol falls behind, my parents are exiled all the way
Her mother has long been used to starvation in her life, but the daily life in the camp has 12 hours of labor every day, and she starts to spend her body. Perhaps in that unmanned malnutrition state, she only eats in her mind. As soon as she stood on the assembly line, her swollen legs would sting, her back hurts, her eyes were astringent, and her eyes echoed the roar of the machine, until she was still in her ears when she was sleeping in the shed. Maybe she was suffering from vision damage, dizziness, and intestinal colic, but she forced herself to just want that hard, mortar -like “Russian bread”. She wanted to hide it in pants pockets and not stole it. If she didn’t hold back, she was eaten together to eat the part of the evening, and she would probably be hungry at night and couldn’t fall asleep, and then she couldn’t support it from the wooden bed the next morning. She is finished in that case. She worked to survive. She knew that labor was her only capital. If she was crushed and could no longer get up, she would lose her life.
More and more camps are blown in the air strikes, and more and more people are put into the narrow space. Mother was not only born in the famine era, but also lived in the era of the Soviets. She has long been used to being forced to live with strangers for a long time. For the so -called private space, she only has a vague concept. In the camp, all her living space had only one sleeping wooden bed. For sanitary reasons, the grass mattresses with straw inside are replaced by the paper mattress of the wood chips, but this does not affect the parasites, they tortured the exhausted women all night. My mother may have only a thin and broken quilt. She has always tortured her until the liver injury caused by the unhygienic diet in the battalion, and the end of her life until the end of her life.
The crazy bombardment of the allies is getting more and more merciless. If the shed where her mother lives is far from her work location, she will work hard for a long distance every day, but if she lives near the work location, such as the “Valla No. 1” camp on the factory venue, then she will The air strikes of the allies are the goal of air strikes in German military factories. The air defense cover is usually left to the Germans. In the night air strikes, a large number of oriental workers were killed because they were locked in the shed.
A stranger describes the scenes that my mother must have met with his own eyes: “Flying Fortress”, and a reflection of the city in the city. After experiencing Germany bombing Mali Popol and going through a boat to Romania, she was threatened by the Soviet bomb, and she was caught in the hail of the Americans and the British. In Mary Ubol, she can at least hide in the basement, but there is no protection on the German camp, and she can only fall into hell on earth. She couldn’t even run outdoors, but was locked in the shed, and she could be swallowed by flames at all times.
Is she began to lose my mind during the climax of the war? Or has already lost rationality in a nightmare disaster? Although her mother was from Catholicism, it was obvious that she was influenced by Russia’s East Orthodoxism, and passed on this belief to her, believing in a savior who saved everyone. Is she praying during an air strike? Is she calling her asylum Holy Spirit -the suffering Yefgenia? She was praying, or she was already in hopeless confrontation with the gods. The silence of the gods had no mercy to make her go to destruction? If she still has a little hope, she can only send hopes in the Allied army, and they may liberate them or kill them.
Leipzig was chaotic. More and more camps and factories are hit. The mandatory laborers are looking for the place of lives and edible things. They were regarded as robbery and became the prey of the party’s and German armed forces temporary military courts. The charges were not allowed to leave the job without permission, although the job did not exist at all. Thousands of mandatory workers were shot dead because Germans were afraid of them to provide testimony and revenge.
However, Americans finally came. The U.S. Army entered the camps and announced: You are free. They said with a smile: The war was over. Then distribute cigarettes and chocolate.
ATG’s leadership and staff have already fled. The workers destroyed the company’s leadership office, swarmed into the sheds of reserve materials, and greedily grabbed food, jam barrels, round bread and round cheese. In the city, they ransacked German stores and stuffed everything they could find into their mouths, and they ignited barbecue on the street. The people in all camps in the city have gained freedom. They ran out and called brothers and brothers, Russians and Italians, French and Poles, Ukraine and Serbians. Everyone was ecstatic. The Germans were afraid and set up roadblocks. Thousands of workers pass through the city, everyone has no job, and no longer needs to be forced. Madam Slades, who had nothing to have nothing and nameless, soon caused doubts from the liberator. Like Stalin, Americans also suspect that they colluded with the Germans, and the American military newspaper “Star Banner” called them as a criminal tramp, fascist, and Bolshevi.
The resolution that agreed to forcibly repatriation of all Soviet citizens at the Yalta Conference not only met the Germans’ minds. They no longer needed these blood workers, but they were afraid of retaliation of the workers. Hope to rebuild the order as fast as possible. Millions of workers who were transported to Germany began to be repatriated, waiting for them to sanction after returning to China, until these people at the end of their lives were tragic. Stalin was forced to work as a rebels and a nation -oriented thief. Some people were shot after returning to their hometown. The rest were sent directly from the German labor camp to the Soviet labor camp. There was no transition in the middle. The vast majority of people can only struggle on the edge of society for the rest of their lives. They cannot find a job, and they can only rely on their parents or relatives to be difficult. They are not allowed to go to college at all. Not only did they live in poverty, they were also isolated because everyone was afraid of contacting the “traitors” with the returnees. In addition, women forced laborers are also regarded as German prostitutes.
The displaced of the Soviet Union fell to the feet of Americans and begged Americans. Even if they shot them, do not send them back to the Soviet Union. Some people committed suicide because they were afraid of Stalin’s revenge and were in the shed. They were worn by violence to Germany, squeezed out the last drop of sweat, and now they have to be forcibly repatriated to the country.
A American filled the “Clarkov” in the column of my parents’ birthplace. Although my mother was clearly stated on the Mary Upol, my father lived in Cameshen and Marwol, and the two were obeyed from Ao Ao from Ao. Desa was transported to Germany and had no puzzles with Poland. The starting point of transportation was still filled in Clarkov. In any case, a small “Clarkov” worked and saved that they were not forcibly repatriated -so I was not born in Germany, but I was born in Germany.
In July 1945, Americans evacuated from Saxon and transferred this part of German land to the Soviet Red Army. My parents fell into the hands of the Soviet regime again, and they could not escape this life when they arrived in Germany. They fled again, this time in the direction of Nuremberg, a large city in the United States in the United States. In the near future, there will be a trial of Nuremberg, which will hold a trial war criminal in the future. Among them, forced labor will be determined to be anti -human crimes.
My parents and a pair of Ukrainian couples. When they arrived in Nuremberg, they found that the city was almost left. They turned around for a few hours, raining in the sky, and the sky gradually darkened. In a factory courtyard at the junction of Nuremberg and Philt, they found a simple warehouse without locking. Obviously, this is the site of the iron factory next door. They got into the warehouse, hoping to sleep in a bunch of old iron strips for a few hours.
Five years have passed from the simple warehouse that secretly hid in the Nuremberg factory courtyard that night. The owner of the factory and factory, the owner of the simple warehouse, seems to be a very special German. He did not drive Slavia’s waiters, but sympathized with them and allowed them to take refuge on his territory, but his move violated the provisions of the allies.
Maybe the German factory not only left the simple warehouse to them, but also helped them find the source of food and got the “furniture”. I can still remember what “furniture”: marching bed, quilt of the Red Cross, a kerosene lamp, and a table. Under the warehouse that is small and crooked, and half of the obstacle, I always see the table as a standing ghost. There should be a stove, otherwise we can’t have five winter in this old, decaying and humble residence.
Mother always lives in fear. The factory owner can recover our residence at any time. The management department may notice us. Some people will report us. In short, the sword of Damocles will always hang on our heads, and we may be expelled and sent to the exile camp at any time. The days living in the warehouse passed with their fingers the day after day. During the five years, the German factory owner has been risking the risk of being punished to support us to protect the umbrella and provide us asylum.
One night in December 1945, my mother was giving birth. Because the birthplace of my birth certificate was Philt, I know that I could not be born in the warehouse of Nuremberg, and I was likely to be born in a hospital in Philt. It is less than a few hundred meters away from the boundaries of Nuremberg and Philt. Maybe my father walked in the dark ice and snow, and she stepped up between the pain in the less frequent pain every twice. Maybe someone called the ambulance -that was probably the owner of the German factory. He lived at the end of the other end of the factory courtyard and had a phone call at home.
In the obstetrics and gynecology department of the German hospital, my mother was unattended. At that time, she might feel the fear and panic of never before. Regardless of whether it is smooth or not, she can only be slaughtered. At seven o’clock in the early morning, she was a severe nutritional and poor physical strength, unexpectedly a strong baby girl, and the baby girl was dyed with newborn jaundice as soon as she was born.
One night, she and my father were arrested by the US military police.
My parents were arrested because Americans suspected that they colluded with the Nazis, just like they suspected that all the Soviets who stayed in Germany after the war were forced to stay in Germany. My hungry father sterilized in prison to force Americans to release my mother. Without her milk, babies staying in the Ukraine couple who lived in the same live could not survive. If it wasn’t for me, the prison would be heavenly for my mother. For such a long time, she was able to eat her stomach for the first time, warm and without a baby’s cry, and she could finally sleep well. But his father’s hunger strike worked. One week later, the mother was released. It didn’t take long for my father to regain freedom.
His suspicion of my parents was not confirmed. Not only did they not send my parents to the exile camp, on the contrary, his father was also hired by Americans. His powerful male Gao Yin, who was full of power, has trained in a poetry class in the Russian church since his childhood, has become his capital in Germany. His singing career began at a theater in Nuremberg: he sang famous Russian songs with other displaced people from the Soviet Union. American soldiers are willing to listen. All the exquisite foods were paid to him, most of which were not obtained by the people after the war of Germany: white bread, canned cheese, salt butter, milk powder, good color cigarettes, block or canned time chocolate … The chocolate of solid and liquid is my childhood basic food.
There are neither water nor electricity in the warehouse. We use the kerosene lamps on the window to light up, and the water must go to the hut of the railway patrolr on the other side of the factory courtyard. In order to go there as little as possible, the mother took two buckets at a time. The railway patrolr is still loyal to the Nazis and does not hide his hatred for Russians. He did not refuse to let the low -headed people in the factory’s courtyard use his faucet, which was just deterred by the majesty of the factory owner. The owner of the factory allowed us to live on his territory, and the patrolr dare not resist. Nevertheless, every time the mother did not know, what kind of reaction did she have, can she still fill the water necessary for our lives.
In addition to the railway patrolr, others also opposed a group of Russian rogue in the factory courtyard. At night, you can often hear the footsteps in front of the warehouse, the sound of whispering, and the sound of knees. Sometimes there was a bouquet of flashlights on the warehouse window, and sometimes some people shook the warehouse door. The baby cried, and the mother jumped up and covered the child’s mouth in panic. No one knew who walked around outside. Is it a tramp or a thief? But what are the good to get here? The most likely thing is the hostile Russians like a patrolr. They always scare illegal residents in the warehouse, wake them up from their sleep, and put them in great fear. Perhaps they want to directly associate them with their own. life.
Nevertheless, we also have so -called daily life. In addition to being a Russian entertainment art worker and singing for American soldiers, his father also has other jobs. He took part of his reward, some American cigarettes and chocolates got the black market to exchange items. In addition, like many people at that time, he also picked up scrap iron. Every night, when my father sings for Americans, my mother and I must classify the scrap iron picked up on the road during the day. Under the kerosene lamp, we sat on the ground and sorted. The next day, my father could get some money from metal waste merchants. With the money selling scrap iron, we can buy German black bread, cabbage, beet and salt.
The environment of mother’s life -originally in Ukraine, and then Germany, instilling her sense of inferiority for a long time, even if she tried to get at least even a little confident, she was immediately presented by her husband. He had little love for her before, and it seemed that she was still left. Now she is obviously a burden for him. In Germany, the only creature that she would expect to love her is me. Maybe she was half to comfort me, half to protest my rebellion, so she told me that she was not my real mother. According to her, my real mother has a blond hair like me. She is a beautiful German woman. She lives in a decent house with a furniture and a faucet, and will one day pick me up. She also told me the story of Moses as a child. She sang the Russian song “Cuckoo Bird”, the Cuckoo bird lost her child, and then kept shouting to find it with a sad voice. Everything makes me believe that I am a abandonment, I am fascinated and resisting. I started crying, began to yell, noisy. My mother should tell me that she deceived me, she was my real mother, but she never said that.
Sometimes she tells me the story of the mysterious glass city. Everything in the city is made of glass. All houses, furniture, and streets, even the shoes worn on the feet of residents are glass. Everyone walked around with a snow -white cloth. They polished the glass, wiped each small dust, and removed each small fog. I don’t know what she wants to tell me what the story wants to express, and what this shiny city represents. Maybe it is the opposite of the dirty poor world, the opposite of her life? Maybe she felt that she was worthless, perhaps at the time, the picture of the glass city had expressed her desire for no feeling and death.
Our Tongju Gannekos couple is rational enough. They expected that they had no chance to get a U.S. visa, they submitted an application for immigration to Brazil and received a visa soon.
My mother and her husband and child stayed alone in the warehouse. She lost the only person to protect her outside, and lost her small circle in Ukraine in Germany. She might completely wake up for a moment, and she was really separated from Ukraine. In this world, except for this warehouse, she has no place to hold her body. The only place to live in, and also thanks to the compassion of a German factory owner. She is destined to live in this country forever, and she will always be an exclusive foreigner. She is at the mercy of a man who seems to hate her.
On the day when the mother was afraid of the beginning, it finally arrived. We don’t know why the German official agencies ordered us to move us to the Valca Exile Camp. The factory owner can’t help us anymore. His method was exhausted. When saying goodbye, he gave my mother a valuable old -fashioned brooch: the golden ravioli was inlaid with a small and bright emerald.
The sheds in the Walca Camp in Changshui District, Nuremberg, were used as the residence of the participants of the Empire Nazi Party Party Congress in 1938 as the place where the Nazi Nazi Party Congress was ranked and the Holy Celebration of the Wanxiao Flag. Later, it was temporarily used to detain the Soviet prisoners of war. When we moved into the Valca Exile Camp, this “small city” composed of the shack lived in 4,000 displays from 30 countries. Most of them have lived here since the end of the war. Know how the life after being rescued starts. Dozens of languages are chaotic, buzzing, and almost no one knows German. Everyone has only one thing in common: he has served for mandatory labor in Hitler’s empire. The sought -after labor slave was now losing their careers and became the remaining cumbersome after the defeat of the empire.
The residents in the battalion get three ready -made meals a day, and they must go to the food distribution office. In addition, each person can receive twelve and a half of the pocket money per month. Power supply every two days, wooden sheds and stone houses take turns. About thirty people in each shack are equipped with a toilet and a faucet.
We live in a wooden shed, torture us all night and flea all night. When it rains, the rainwater is leaked from the roof gap, and we must quickly put all the available containers to pick up the water. The deformed windows are not tight, and the fire in the stove is not ventilated, and the smoke is rushed. Throughout the winter, we were frozen enough to cough. During this period, I got all the common children’s diseases, from measles to epidemic mumps, from chickenpox to pertussis.
During this time, I found that my mother showed a sign of pregnancy. She was in the early thirties, but in my memory, she was old, embarrassed, full of illness, and her hair was tightly behind her head. She was wearing a green and white skirt, and her wrinkled skirt was stretched up by the bulging belly, and her thin body was like a huge ball. When I asked her why her stomach was so big, I saw her smile with her father -this is the moment when my parents who rarely revealed in my memory. I have never seen the two of them hug, let alone kiss each other or other gentle moves.
In the Walca camp, the mother was tortured by noise daily, so that she could not get used to the noisy sound. In the small space of the shed, the nervous emotions are resonating. No one whispered, and everyone was shouting in order to be heard in a noise. The sound of quarrels, sobbing, and laughter came one after another. You can hear every word from the people next to him, every sneezing, and every sigh, all the sounds are remitted into a huge never -stop noise.
The noise makes my mother feel more homeless, but she has no home anyway. She covered her ears and got up and ran out of the shed, because in addition to noise in the shed, she was also tortured by neighbors with delusion. A old Estonian woman, through the thin wall plate, kept cursing her in Russian. The mother couldn’t refute, and sometimes she washed her face with tears all day. She is always crying. Her most serious illness is the hometown, and her thoughts about her hometown to torture her uninterruptedly, like thirst, will never weaken, and will only become stronger and stronger until one day die.
For me, the Valca Camp is a place with a German school first. This is a school where children are only in the camp, and everyone must learn German first. Because my mother taught me in the warehouse of the factory courtyard, when I first entered school, my Russian language had reached the level of reading. As I entered a German school to go to school, I and my parents started a language war. They refused to listen to my German. His father really didn’t understand, until the end of his life would not be German. Her mother said better than everyone around, but she didn’t want to listen to me. And I don’t want to listen to her again, I don’t want to talk about her any more.
Sometimes, her mother will tell her life in Ukraine, and she has planned to enter a monastery to become a nun. After speaking, she cried and said that her life was a punishment for her, because she did not obey His call. She stared at me with her sorrowful eyes. “If you haven’t come to this world, it may be better.” She said, “If you have seen what I have seen …” Then her eyes looked at something I couldn’t see, there was no me.
The birth of my sister coincides with our relocation to a new residence. Although the Walca Exile Camp was dissolved in the mid -1960s, we had relocated in 1952. In this year, the Americans transferred the displacement to the newly established German refugee institutions, and the displaced person obtained a new identity. In the periphery of a Frank County north of Nuremberg, a settlement point for a group of “homeless foreigners” is established. For most of them, this is their first and last residence in Germany. It is the end station. The locals built for us and the residential area located by the Regnitz River is called refugee building. Our residential area is located behind the most peripheral buildings in the city. From a geographical point of view, it is almost the buildings we live in and do not belong to the city. Especially during the hot day of the hot wind, the air permeated in the air was the rotten odor emitted by the “bone factory” that mobilized the animal bone into a glue. The locals called it “poisonous gas”.
The city is intact in the war, and the old town is like a German fairy tales. In the summer, the wooden frame structure facility built in the Middle Ages was covered by colorful grass. A few years later, a American film was filmed here, and the film was named “The Rain Rain Cloud”. The film mainly described the dual morality and persecution of the residents of the small city. My mother has one thing in common: she also committed suicide in the Reagnitz.
When moving a new residence, the mother did not work with my father and me, but came directly from the hospital. I stood in front of the window of the new kitchen and watched her come down from a car parked in the yard. She didn’t seem to have the joy of moving a new family, and her face showed endless despair and calm hope. She was holding a white package in her arms, and my sister, a quiet, soft baby girl, revealed a black hair, so she seemed to be carved with my mother’s mold.
We must go to the city hall to receive relief every month to try to solve our own diet. At that time, houses, furniture, and some people, the whole German was renewed, from the beginning of the war. Because of this, the refugee buildings on the edge of the city are not popular. They will make people recall the past where no one wants to mention.
Mother should feel double strange. There are countless Russians, Ukrainians and other Soviet citizens who have been forcibly repatriated to the Valca camp. Anyway, they also speak Russian, but there is no such person here. In the end, we came to an Eastern European -style Babylonian country, caught in the chaos of language, and we could only understand words similar to our language. Except for us, there is only one Russian, a man with only one leg, but he has not lived for a long time.
As Russians, we are not only a political enemy recognized by Germans, but also outsiders at our living sites. One night, a terrible incident that was aimed at us with collective persecution was about to be brewed. The drunk man gathered under the window of my house, calling the words such as “Communists”, “Bolshevik” and “Stalin Party” -all the words in all languages are the same. A stone flew into our room with glass fragments.
Gradually, some Germans also moved into refugee buildings. There is no doubt that they feel that staying in the refugee building is a shame. Although they also belong to the edge of this society, in the middle of the mandatory workers, they must make them feel like they were thrown into the garbage dump.
For my mother, living in refugee buildings is the beginning of her new round of pain. Her first child was already a disaster. Now she has two children to feed. In addition, there is our own apartment, and she finally has to take on the role of a family woman. His father’s patience to her ended, he no longer helped her to do housework, and since then she had to do everything alone: cooking, cleaning, laundering, socks, ironing -ironing -a woman was born in that era and society. All the work.
She can also talk to some people in the Valca camp to share her hometown memories. And now there are no one. She is completely lonely, unreliable, and hit the wall everywhere, not only in the German environment she lives, not only in the refugee building -as a “Russian woman” she does not belong to it. And her marriage, this marriage became her hell.
All other children brought meals to school, but my mother couldn’t prepare -because she couldn’t cut the bread slices straight, because we didn’t put food on the bread, nor did we wrap the food paper for bread. Add it. She felt that she was weak and sick, so that when I had to go to school every morning, she couldn’t get up from the bed. The worst seems to be the endless mysterious disease caused by the hometown, which makes her weaker and weaker. She mentioned her father who died early almost every day, mentioned her brother, she loved him so much, and of course her mother, she didn’t know if her mother was still alive. She was crying while crying, and she was more and more tears. I don’t understand what she lost and can bring her such a long, bottomless pain. Sometimes, she was sitting at the kitchen table and outlined some people’s faces with a pencil, which is always the same face. I think that the residents she told me about the glass city has such a face, and her cold eyes stare at nothing. She put these paintings into the drawers of our kitchen table, and there were several more more every day.
The only thing that can be free from the pain briefly is one thing to sing. Singing is our magic and can dispel monsters. Our retention shows are not only Russian and Ukraine songs, but also German songs that I am learning at school and my parents also love, such as “Silent Night”, “If I’m a Bird”, “Snow Mountain there there “”, Etc. Usually her mother started with her clear female treble, followed by me, and then her father. His father was actually a male treble, but because he didn’t like his mother to sing German lyrics, he transferred to us with a bass without lyrics. His accompaniment seemed to be a low bell, adding a trace of Russian mood to our German songs. In summer, neighbors often gather under the open windows of our house to listen to our singing and applaud and applaud. Our private concert brings a brief reconciliation between the two sides. Whenever our family sang together, the three of us also returned to goodness and felt the sense of belonging of the family.
She once asked me when she was more willing to stay with her father, or was she willing to cast a river with her and bring my younger sister. “It doesn’t hurt.” She told me that because I didn’t want to stay with my father anyway, and it didn’t hurt, I immediately agreed to cast a river together. I even felt that she was willing to bring me a reward for me.
That day, my parents sat in front of the radio and listened carefully to the Russian broadcasts mixed with many noise. The news gap was also played by Bach’s song. Stalin died on the verge of death. “Yes, he used to be a bad guy,” my mother said, “but we don’t know what he is going through. He must first face God’s trial.” In my memory, this is the last time I am in her mouth. Hearing what she believes in the existence of fair God.
Stalin’s death did not bring any changes to their lives. Even during the so -called thawing period, the Soviet Union was still a closed country that was closed to the outside world, and my parents would still be regarded as the national enemy, the rebel, and the enemy. Nevertheless, every time German officials call my parents, they ask them to return to their hometown as soon as possible. As for what they will happen to the Soviet Union, the official agency is not interested. The mother always cried back from these institutions, and seemed to be scolded.
The hope of moving to the United States soon was shattered. We have submitted a visa application many times, and now, the father received a notice after a routine medical examination, and he suffered from tuberculosis. Mother is convinced that the tuberculosis of his father is not a misdiagnosis, but a shameless lie of Americans. They do not conceal the excuses for such a terrible disease, in order to drive away the poor people like us forever.
They gave up trying to move abroad, and the entrepreneurial ideas that the unemployed father thought of was brewing. He intends to build a chicken farm. The mother’s help -the mother has been translated between the father and the Germans, and the father submitted a loan application on the city savings bank on the main street. Mother did not believe that we could get a loan from the Germans, but after a few weeks after my parents ran between banks and German agencies, the loan was approved. The amount is incredible, listening to the dizzy astronomical number: a thousand beams.
At the beginning of Xia, his father built his chicken farm.
My mother often takes me and my sister to the farm because we must help my father work. During the distant journey, the mother pulled her sister with a wooden board with a handle and wheel, because she was too young to go so far. We walked along the Reagnitz River, the weather was hot, and we were tired and thirsty, but the road seemed to have no end. Once, when we finally walked to the farm, our mother stopped in front of the door and looked at my father for his sister and the wooden autumn. “Qiu Qian hangs a skeleton.” She said this without emotion. I didn’t see anything, but my mother stood still in place, her face was pale, like the wooden boards and brackets of Qiu Qian, and stared at Qiu Qian in the air.
During this time, her words became less. She became more and more weird, more and more soulless, and more and more frequently told us that she was going to cast a river. At the same time, she seemed to have no pressure and relaxed, and I never saw her like this before. She suddenly began to sort out her long black hair and tried new hairstyles. She often stood in front of the mirror, looked at herself for a long time, and then marvel, as if she had forgotten what she looked like, or for the first time to see herself in the mirror, the first time she saw herself in the mirror. Essence
His father’s business is far less smooth as he envision. He joined a Cossack Choir who toured in various European concert halls and churches throughout the year.
It is hard to imagine our father’s current day. Go to a new city every day, sleep in the hotel at night, and eat in the hotel. He sent us money, and also sent color postcards: the Alps covered with white snow, small houses in the valley, vast Dutch tulip field, Eiffel Tower, a Spanish Flamingo female dancer, holding a sound plate in his hand. The sister used these postcards to play her mysterious card game on the floor that we haven’t cleaned for a long time. The mother never watched the postcard. The money sent by her father, she also put on the table casually, her sister and I could take it as they wanted. We bought a lot of lollipops with sausages, cherry -flavored, and small ice cream cakes, which stuffed the stomach full, and it was spit out. In the past, when the street lights were on, I had to be at home, and now my mother doesn’t care about me at home. When the customers in the refugee building rang my doorbell, the mother did not open the door, and she no longer opened the door for anyone, just like she didn’t hear the doorbell at all. A neighbor noticed the strangeness of my house and brought us cake. But the mother did not allow us to eat the cake. She said that the cake was poisonous and then threw it into the trash.
We no longer clean up the room, but sometimes I still rushed some dishes under the faucet, or threw the garbage into the large trash can in the basement. Everything in the room was dirty. My sister and I no longer have clean underwear to change. It’s already autumn, and we have become cold at night, but we have no heating because we have no wood and coal.
When my sister and I knelt down in silence before going to bed, our mother said, “God does not exist.” Then we banned us from praying. The next day, she painted the cross in her chest, started crying, and ordered us to continue praying. She often saw something I couldn’t see: the nun in white walked from the window, and the pear trees in the yard were burning. Another time, she saw a snake approaching in the kitchen. Most of the time, she was just sitting in a chair in the kitchen. No matter how we shake her, pinch her, and drag her hair, it is not helpful. She bears everything and has no reaction. “Mom, when will we go to the river?” I asked her once. Then she spoke: “Go soon.”
One day, her eyes suddenly recovered. She jumped up from the chair, grabbed my skipping rope, and began my neck. She firmly believes that I am the son of Satan, the bad guy she gave birth to this world. She had to kill me because God ordered her to do so.
My mother began to call me the son of Satan again. She shook me desperately. I almost lost consciousness. I broke away, rushed into the bedroom and locked the door. Then I picked up the scissors and burned all the clothes in my mother’s wardrobe in the anger. I have been destroyed until I wear it except my mother, and no clothes are spared. I stood at the door with scissors and waited for my mother to come in. When she finally entered the bedroom and saw a bunch of broken clothes on the ground, she froze, but a trace of swimming smile appeared on her face. “You do well, my daughter.” She touched my head gently with her hands, “You do it very well.”
From this moment, she stopped talking at all. I asked her, begging her, and I shook her with force, but she kept saying nothing. She began to sit away again, and she saw what she saw in another world of God, and she did not disclose the slightest from her eyes.
On October 10th, it finally arrived. I went to school on this day. No one in the school cares about me often absent from school. Even the new teachers obviously have not counted me as her students. When I got home, I began to chatterly chatter again. I spoke like a waterfall, and I didn’t have a comma without a sentence. I desperately said, telling my mother that there was a school outing on the next day of our class to go to Valbella. Then, the mother suddenly said: “Don’t go together tomorrow.” Then he said nothing again. I explained to her that I must participate in the outing tomorrow, which is the school’s request. I cried and stomped with my feet. “I have to go together,” I shouted loudly, “Everyone goes.” But she had a disregard of my words.
I rushed out of my family angrily and closed the door behind me. This is always the case. I will never be prohibited from doing everything. These things are not only taken for granted for German children, but even what they must do. There is always only one sentence: we are not Germans. And I can’t know that this time my mother’s words are not a ban, but a prophecy. Don’t go tomorrow -this is the last sentence I heard from her mouth.
I went home very late that day, and later than usual. When I inserted the key into the keyhole of the house, it was already nine o’clock in the evening. But the door could not be opened. I pushed the door vigorously, and the door opened a little back, and then I suddenly heard the younger sister’s sad shout.
Mother is not at home. For the first time, she was not at home. If she goes out, she just goes to the chicken farm to get eggs, even if she should come back even if she then. At this point, the Reagnitz River had no fingers at the black. My sister couldn’t remember when her mother left home. She burned, completely confused. We sat at the kitchen table and waited. The deadly silence, only the hanging clocks from the health bureau above the radio’s health bureau to the mother rang. My eyes stared at the pointer without blinking every minute. On the calendar hanging under the hanging clock, the dating of today was marked by the drawing fork.
I don’t know what time, I walked into the bedroom, took the quilt to cover her sister, and she was fighting for a chill. I immediately discovered the changes in the room. The room wall has been hanging on the zoom photos of her mother’s personal photos. In the photo, she took Ukrainian headscarves to show amazing beauty. Now, the photos on the wall are taken down and placed on the bed, and the photos were torn from the middle.
The two police officers from driving the car pointed to the road to the chicken farm. This is the first time I have been in a car, which is a wasteland for me. In the cold night, we drove along the bank of the Reagnitz River, and the river sparkled in the moonlight.
“Mother is in the Reagnitz.” I said to the police. The two of them exchanged their eyes, and then said to me, “Hey, talk nonsense.” But on the way back, they took the light lights in the river and opened along the river bank at a very slow speed. I was very scared, and I was afraid to see my mother lying on the shore in the concentricular light pillar. However, there are only black rivers in front of you.
Who will my mother go to? She doesn’t know anyone. If she goes to the acquaintance’s house, she will definitely put on her beautiful shoes, but the shoes are still on the corridor at home.
The road to the cemetery is far away from the Wingar, but I am an experienced scatcher leg. I ran, and I didn’t stop at a time. I ran from one end of the city to the other end, until I stood in front of the murmur. My mother, she is inside. I never thought of seeing her after this glass. Now, it doesn’t make any sense to shake her and pinch her. Now, I can no longer tease her laughter, and I can’t do anything to fight her death.
The black hair was scattered on the white coffin pillow, and she looked strange, like Princess White Snow in a German fairy tale book. On her right cheeks and under her eyes, there was a bruise. What did she hit in the water? Her hands were crossed on the coffin cover, just like the two deceaseds who were sent today. But there was no cross in her hand. There was no flower ring or bouquet in front of her coffin. She was lying there without any decoration, but she was lying quietly, compared with the two deceased next to her, lying in another place.
Later, I learned that on the banks of the river, she found her gray coat just a hundred meters away from her lifeless body. This was the last piece of clothes she brought from Ukraine. The velvet of the cuff had been worn. She took off her coat and stacked neatly and placed on the grass. Maybe she had chosen here a long time ago, which may be the day when she took a cross below October 10th. These are all the symbols she left: the fork number marking on the calendar, the tearing photos and the coat on the shore. Why did she take off the coat? Doesn’t she know that the weight of the coat can help her sink?
When she died, there was no free cemetery in the old cemetery like the city, and the new cemetery happened to be built. To this day, the appearance of the new cemetery is like a private residential area, with a beautiful garden in front. The garden used to be a construction site. For a long time, the tombstone engraved with the Russian inscriptions was standing in a desert that was plowed by excavators and bulldozers. Later, the tombstone was gone. In addition to a few black and white photos, a copy of a marriage certificate with a upside -down wedding, and a icon she brought from Ukraine -may be one of the family property, it is unexpectedly spared in confiscation -there is nothing about any about the confiscation of the public -there is nothing about the confiscation -there is nothing about the confiscation -there is nothing about it -there is no About about any about it. Her things still exist in the world.
(This article is selected from the Star Publishing House “She is from Mali Ubol”, which is slightly deleted)
| [Germany] Natasha Waldin [De] Qi Qinwen translated
Xinxing Publishing House/April 2021